


Scorched Memory

by gothclark



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-21
Updated: 2011-01-21
Packaged: 2017-10-14 22:50:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/154323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gothclark/pseuds/gothclark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel only knows that he must see Dean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scorched Memory

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dauntperplexity](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=dauntperplexity).



> Written for the secret angel IV challenge. Thanks to my beta readers Val. Prompt _3\. Castiel appears at Bobby’s doorstep with a bunch of feathers in his hand, and no memory of the past two weeks. All he has is a feeling inside of him telling him that he has to call Dean._

The feathers were in his pockets, in his hair, and in his hands. He stood on the doorstep of the house, knowing somewhere inside that he should remember this place. He should know who lives here. He thinks Dean lives here, the name more an impression than an actual memory, but he won't know for sure until he knocks.

Castiel reached out and knocked twice on the front door of the house. His first knocks went unheard; perhaps they were too soft. Castiel knocked harder, and again no one appeared. Meanwhile, a piece of feather fluff floated around his head as though it were in orbit. Castiel blew it away just as the front door opened.

He smiled, and waved to the man who had answered the door. He was sure he knew this man. He must or why would he come here?

"Hey, Cas," the man said in greeting, confirming their acquaintance as he opened the door and stepped aside to let him pass. Bobby. Bobby wasn't alone. There were two other men with him. The shorter one, Dean had his back to Castiel and turned when Castiel entered the room.

"Cas," Dean said. "Where have you been? I've been calling you for two weeks."

Castiel had remembered Dean's name without trouble, though he wasn't sure why. His memory recall was getting better, but there were still many holes.

"What the hell are you wearing?" Dean looked him up and down, his lip curled with what looked like distaste.

Castiel looked down at himself. The black leather pants hung much too low on his hips and were much too tight on his crotch, and the blue shirt he wore was rumpled and untucked from his pants. The long black leather trench coat was the only comfortable piece of clothing he wore.

Dean walked forward and sniffed.

"You smell like the inside of a brewery," he said, narrowing his eyes. "Have you been drinking again?"

"I don't know," Castiel said. He widened his eyes and recalled another time when he'd imbibed excessive amounts of alcoholic beverages. He didn't feel the way he'd felt that time. "I can't remember anything from the past few weeks." He pointed at Dean. "I can remember you and I am beginning to remember my life. I think I was...married?"

"Not you," Dean said and pressed a finger against Castiel's chest. "That's his life, the guy you're in."

"I'm in a guy?" Castiel said. He moved toward a chair and sat down, memories flashing in his mind. A feather floated to the floor and Castiel watched it land. He clutched tighter at the feathers he held, unwilling to release them. Convinced they had meaning.

"What happened to you?" Dean said. He crouched down and looked up at Castiel.

Castiel shrugged his shoulders and turned his attention to Dean, then looked at the feathers. "I don't know. I woke up in a hotel room alone and these were all over the room." He held up the feathers for Dean to see.

Dean plucked one from Castiel's hand and held it before his eyes. They were all azure black and gleamed in the light when Dean twirled the feather in his hand.

"What else can you remember?" said the taller man. Sam. The name ghosted through Castiel's mind. He stood just behind Dean with his arms crossed. Dean stood up straight and turned to Sam.

"I remember that I am an angel of the lord," Castiel said. Somehow, he knew it to be true, but he wavered in uttering the words. Was he an angel? He was sure that he was, he had a vague recollection of why he was here on Earth, and he knew Dean and knew that Dean meant more to him than anyone else in his life, but what did it all mean?

"We were kind of in the middle of something when you disappeared on us," Dean said. "Maybe there's a clue back in the hotel, or..." Dean turned to Castiel. "Empty your pockets."

Castiel nodded and released the feathers, allowing them to float down to the floor. He felt something like loss deep inside him as he watched them fall. He riffled through his coat pockets first, pulling out bits of paper and a matchbook. Dean held his hands out and Castiel filled them with what he found. He transferred them to the tabletop.

"I'll go make some coffee," Bobby said, leaving the room.

Sam moved to a table, sat down, and raised the lid of a laptop. He reached out and arranged the things Castiel had found in his pockets. He held up three slips of paper, one of which looked like a cocktail napkin with a red-smeared lip print, a phone number written in neat small numbers, and the name Halley written just above the number.

"What the hell is that?" Dean said, snatching it from Sam's hand. He examined the napkin and then stared up at Castiel with narrowed eyes.

Castiel shrugged and sat down in a chair at the table. He stared down at the other slips of papers. They were all names and phone numbers. He picked one up at random and stared at the name, concentrating in the hope that he would remember why he was carrying it around in his pocket. "I don't know but these must mean something," he said, looking up at Dean, feeling more lost then ever before. Most of his memory had returned, and he could separate what was his life and what was Jimmy Novak's life, the name of the man he was wearing, but he still could not remember the most recent events of his existence.

Dean stared down at him in silence and scrubbed a hand across his face. He paced a few feet then stopped before the table, looking to Sam.

Sam held a book of matches up. They were red and had the words Taboo Gardens printed across them.

"These are from a strip club in West Hollywood," Sam said, setting the packet on the table.

Just at that moment, Bobby marched into the room with two cups of coffee in his hands. He stopped in his tracks. "Maybe I should go do that thing I've been meaning to do since last week." Before anyone could say anything, Bobby set the coffees down, rushed to grab his coat and hurried out the door, closing it behind him.

Dean snatched the matchbook up. Castiel turned away from the accusation written in Dean's eyes.

"Let's see what other surprises you have hidden on you," Dean said, tossing the matchbook on the table. It bounced once then skidded to a stop just before the edge of the table.

Castiel sighed and stood, stuffing his hands in his pants pockets. He came up with a cell phone from his back pocket, which he set down on the table. Dean snatched it up, flipped it open, and pressed a few buttons. From another pocket, Castiel produced a handful of folded slips of paper, which he dropped on the table. Dean picked one up and groaned.

"You have got to be kidding me," he said. He turned the slip to Castiel, shoving the paper in his face. It had a name and number written on it like the other papers with the added bonus of two Xs and two Os.

"Mandy," Castiel read the name and then the number aloud. He looked to Dean whose face had gone red with fury.

"What the fuck, Cas?" Dean said.

"I have no plans to call this number," Castiel said. "I don't even know where it came from."

Dean picked up another slip of paper and sniffed it. Castiel could smell the strong perfume scent from where he stood. "Oh, really. Well maybe one of these girls can answer that question for us." Dean held up the paper and used Castiel's phone to dial the number. Dean handed the phone to him and smiled though, Castiel could see it wasn't a smile of joy.

"Hello," Castiel said, when a woman whose voice he didn't recognize answered the phone. He consulted the paper. "Trisha. Hi. It is me, Castiel," Castiel said, his voice going deep. "I found your number in my pocket and I was wondering where we met. It was probably some time this past week or so." Castiel blinked at the shouts on the other end and pulled the phone away from his ear when it went dead.

"Does she know anything?" Sam asked. He stood between Castiel and Dean, his gaze on Dean.

"She requested that I lose her number and then informed me that I should go to Hell and then she hung up," said Castiel. He turned to face Dean, holding out the cell phone.

Dean went to pick up another slip of paper, when all slips of paper with the numbers written on them caught fire and went up in a puff of smoke. Trisha's number caught fire as well the moment Dean set it down.

They all stared at the ashes floating in the air.

Castiel swallowed hard. A pair of accusative eyes glared at him.

"It wasn't me," Castiel said.

"Right," Dean said.

Castiel could tell by his tone that Dean didn't believe him. "I wish to discover, just as much as you do, if not more so, what happened to me during that missing time period," Castiel said.

"Well, that blows that lead," Dean said throwing his arms in the air. He grabbed up his coat. "What was the name of the hotel you found yourself in?"

"I don't remember," Castiel said. He stood and stuffed his hand in his left back pocket. He had a memory of something being in there. He pulled out a business card and held it out to Dean who took the card.

"Beverly Hills Hotel," Dean read aloud. He looked to Sam who did a quick search on his laptop, showing Dean and Castiel the address.

"Take us there, Cas," Dean said.

Castiel nodded, a feeling of dread coming over him. He pressed two fingers to Dean's forehead and transported Dean and himself in a blinding flash of light to the room he'd found himself in just a few hours before. He'd left Sam behind because he wasn't sure what they would find.

The room was as he'd left it, pillows strewn all over the place and piles of clothing spread around on the floor. His beige trench coat and suit were slung carelessly over a plush chair.

Dean stared at the centerpiece of the room, a king-sized bed with rumpled sheets along with two overturned bottles of champagne on the bedside table. There were piles of clothing on the bed. Dean reached out and picked up a pair of leopard-striped briefs, holding them up with a look of distaste on his face. A memory of wearing the briefs flashed through Castiel's mind. Dean dropped the briefs and rifled through the pile of clothing. Something rattled, and Dean came up with another object he turned to show Castiel, handcuffs with a chain attached to them.

"I don't know where those came from," Castiel said but, even as he spoke the words, he had a vague memory of wearing them on his wrists. Bits and pieces of memory flashed in his mind, glimpses of music and bright lights.

Something else caught Dean's attention and he dropped the cuffs and chain. He moved to the bedside table and picked something up in his hand, turning to face Castiel.

When he opened his hand, a long trail of packets unfurled from his white-knuckled grip.

"Do you want to explain why there are condoms on your bedside table?" Dean said.

"I can't, Dean," Castiel said. He took the strip of condoms from Dean and set them aside.

Dean crossed his arms and bit his bottom lip. "You got laid, didn't you?" Dean said.

Castiel could see hurt and anger in Dean's eyes and couldn't understand why.

"Hello, boys," a voice said before Castiel could answer the accusation.

Dean spun around to face the newcomer, Gabriel stood with his arms crossed and a smirk on his face.

"I should have known that you had something to do with this," Dean said. He stomped across the room and shoved an accusatory finger in Gabriel's face. Gabriel pushed Dean's hand away and moved around him to face Castiel.

"I still say you look better in these," Gabriel said, slapping Castiel on his ass.

Castiel jumped away from Gabriel with wide eyes and a glare. "This is no time to joke."

"This is your doing," Dean said.

"You caught me," Gabriel said, grinning and holding his arms up in surrender.

"Why can't I remember anything?" Castiel said, bearing down on his brother. Gabriel arched his back and leaned away from Castiel, placing a hand on Castiel's chest to keep him at bay.

"On account of a little accident," Gabriel said. "Relax. Your memories, despite how pathetic they are, will return."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Dean asked, looking at Gabriel over Castiel's shoulder.

"It was supposed to be a birthday present, for your birthday," he said, pointing at Castiel, "but it didn't exactly go according to the plan."

Castiel backed away from Gabriel, feeling a sense of dread. A memory flashed in his mind of trying on clothes and of Gabriel's encouragement as Castiel settled on the outfit he now wore. He stared down at himself. The clothes felt out of place and wrong, but it was the least of his worry. Had he engaged in carnal sins of the flesh with some random woman? He felt numb at the thought and sat down on the edge of the bed, staring down at the plush carpet, noting that his tie was on the floor, a knotted tangled mess. Castiel leaned forward and picked it up, holding it in his hand. He looked up to Dean.

"Just tell me one thing," Castiel said, addressing Gabriel though he never took his eyes off of Dean. "Did I..."

"Get laid, do the horizontal mambo, make whoopee, copulate, pop your cherry, do the deed, get it on with some luscious babe?" He demonstrated with lewd hand gestures.

"Okay!" Dean said, red-faced. "We get it."

Gabriel stopped his recitation, and dropped his hands in frustration, a look of disgust directed at Castiel. Gabriel waved a hand at Castiel. "Golden boy here wouldn't have it. Who knew my brother was such a prude and, besides, all he could talk about was you." Gabriel turned to point at Dean. "Dean did this, Dean is that, Dean is so cool," he mocked.

Castiel leaned sideways, one arm stretched out to prop himself up against the bed, relief flooding through him.

"I have things to do, oh boring and snooze fest one," Gabriel said with a wave. "Bye-bye." Before either of them could stop him, Gabriel had vanished with a flutter of wings.

"You son of a bitch," Dean said, rushing at the spot Gabriel had just vacated. Dean balled his hands into fists and shook on to the empty air. "Coward!" he shouted.

Castiel lurched forward, sliding from the bed to kneel on the floor, clutching at his head. Two weeks of memories flooded into his mind, vying for attention, and Castiel lunged forward onto his hands and knees. He felt a hand on his back and glanced up to see Dean crouched before him. There was one memory that stood out above all others. Castiel sat back on his haunches and stared into Dean's concerned eyes.

"You okay?" Dean asked. The words were a balm to Castiel's sudden ache at the thought that he'd betrayed their relationship with a stranger.

"I remember everything now," Castiel said. He whispered the words and his heart sped up at the look in Dean's eyes when he spoke them.

"Okay," Dean sat back with one knee up, resting his arm across his knee. He leaned against the bed and stared up at the ceiling. "So then he was telling the truth about you not..."

"Yes, Dean," Castiel said. He leaned back against the bed beside Dean and they sat in silence, the sound of the outside world in the distance.

"So you remember..." Dean made a vague hand motion between them, fingers wiggling.

"Yes, Dean," Castiel said with a nod. He tilted his head and watched one emotion after another flit across Dean's face. Each expression triggered strong feelings deep in Castiel, and he felt a tingling through his body at the one memory he kept foremost in his mind. He turned it around in his head, savoring every second, every moment, every taste and sound and touch.

"Then you weren't angry at me right after," Dean said, hesitation in the sound of his voice.

"I was not angry with you," Castiel said. A smile played on his lips and though Castiel rarely engaged in the act of smiling, he liked the way it felt on his mouth and the way it made him feel.

"So then maybe we could..." Dean turned soft eyes on Castiel. His lips parted, the next words trapped on his tongue.

Castiel leaned in the last few inches, closing the gap between them until their lips almost touched. He reached up and brushed his thumb across Dean's bottom lip, shivering when Dean's tongue darted out and teased his thumb with the promise of something more.

"Yes, we can," said Castiel, closing the gap and pressing his lips to Dean's open mouth. Memory scorched him, tingles coursing through his body. Dean took the lead, pulling Castiel closer, throwing him off balance. Castiel fell into Dean's lap, and nestled between Dean's spread legs. The coat felt uncomfortable and Castiel pulled away long enough to remove it and toss it aside. Their mouths met again, and Castiel tilted his head to the left, the rub of stubble against his skin going straight to his cock. It wasn't enough. Hungry for more, Castiel mashed his mouth to Dean's desperate to repeat the experience of their first shared kiss. That kiss was seared into Castiel's brain, and he was starting to realize the second kiss was far superior to the first.

"This is good," Dean said between kisses. He nudged Castiel, urging him to move, and somehow without breaking their locked mouths apart, they shifted up and sideways onto the bed. Castiel slid back, pulling Dean along atop him, spreading across the bed, feeling the warm soft comforter lying beneath him. Dean plastered his body to Castiel's, plunging his tongue deep into Castiel's mouth.

Castiel made a guttural sound of approval deep in his throat, tearing at Dean's shirt. He didn't bother to yank it over his head. Instead, he used his unearthly strength to rip it from Dean's body, in order to caress the exposed skin. Somehow, Castiel managed to get out of the leather pants, tossing them aside forgotten. Dean's hand gripped Castiel's hard cock, and he stroked the length. Castiel threw his head back, savoring the feel of Dean's touch.

"Commando," Dean said, kissing Castiel's wet mouth then licking and sucking the bottom lip. "You naughty little angel."

Dean straddled Castiel's hips, stroking his cock and staring down at him with an expression of triumph.

"It was difficult to wear undergarments with those pants," Castiel said, sucking a breath through his teeth when Dean continued to jerk his cock.

"Right," Dean said, eyes focused on his task. He shifted backward and bent to lick the head of Castiel's cock. Castiel cried out with pleasure and bucked his hips, almost throwing Dean from the bed.

Dean gripped Castiel's hip with one hand as though he were riding a bucking bronco, his smirked mouth hovering around the head of Castiel's cock.

"That was..." Castiel managed to say before his brain exploded from the sensation of Dean's mouth wrapped around his cock.

"Just answer one question," Dean said between sucking and licking.

"Huh," Castiel said, wondering how Dean expected him to think at a time like this.

"The feathers you were holding, where did they come from?" Dean didn't wait for a reply. He dove down and sucked Castiel's cock into his mouth, making it impossible for Castiel to respond with anything beyond incoherent babble.

Dean pulled back and licked the tip of Castiel's cock, pausing to look at Castiel. His mouth hovered, teasing just over Castiel's hard throbbing cock. Dean gave him a few strokes and smirked.

"I..." Castiel said with an audible gulp.

"Well," Dean said. "I'm waiting." Again, instead of waiting as he said he would, Dean licked Castiel's cock, eyes locked on Castiel. Heat scorched Castiel's body, sending shudders from his sensitized cock to the tip of his toes. Castiel curled his toes and tipped his head back, unable to speak. He grabbed handfuls of bed sheets and clutched at them, as though his life depending on him hanging on. The sound of ripping and tearing filled the room, and Castiel tossed his head back and forth.

Dean sucked and licked the length, muttering something about making an angel go nonverbal. When Castiel came, he screamed out his release, shattering the windows in the room. His body tensed then relaxed, and he opened his eyes to find Dean with his hands over his ears, curled beside Castiel.

Castiel sat up and pulled Dean up until their eyes locked. Dean breathed a sigh of relief, and lay down on top of Castiel, sliding one hand behind Castiel's neck and kissing him hard. He pulled back to gaze down at Castiel under heavy lids, a smug look of satisfaction on his face.

"I think Bobby and Sam heard that," Dean said. His voice was low and husky, and Castiel shivered at the sound when it rumbled through his body.

"I think Heaven heard that," Castiel said with a smile. He pulled Dean down. The kiss was slow, languid and Castiel made sure to touch every corner of Dean's warm, wet mouth.

A beam of sunlight traveled across the room, settling across their legs. Castiel felt a warmth unlike any he'd felt before.

"You never answered my question about the feathers," Dean said, breaking the kiss.

Castiel smiled and silenced Dean with a kiss.

End


End file.
